


Five Lessons for the Princess of Hallownest

by CorundumBleu



Series: Cornifer's Compendium: Short Tales from the World of Hollow Knight [3]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hornet and Hollow meet for the first time!, I know the mantises come off as jerks but I love them too, Isma is a scientist now, Ogrim gets the attention he deserves, Pre-Canon, also what the heck was Isma up to???, baby Hornet is a blessing, honestly I love the knights and wish they had more lore, the Five Great Knights - Freeform, the Pale King is really trying but he ain't doing a good job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorundumBleu/pseuds/CorundumBleu
Summary: Ogrim, the White Defender, has been tasked with babysitting young Hornet for the day. In a kingdom that is beginning to unravel at the seams, he is determined to teach her some of what he knows--and have a bit of fun while they do it. Meanwhile, Hornet takes advantage of her newfound freedom to get to know her mysterious sibling.This story puts the spotlight on the Five Great Knights of Hallownest, fleshing out their lore and touching on the diplomatic state of Hallownest before its fall.
Relationships: Hornet & Ogrim | Dung Defender, Hornet & The Five Great Knights, Isma/Ogrim | Dung Defender, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet, Traitor Lord's Daughter/Ze'mer | Grey Mourner
Series: Cornifer's Compendium: Short Tales from the World of Hollow Knight [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100141
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Five Lessons for the Princess of Hallownest

Hornet stared at the knight.

Ogrim stared back.

She squinted in concentration, eyes watering from the effort to hold them open.

_ Pfffffffft. _

Hornet blinked in surprise.

“Oh ho!” her opponent leapt to his feet, fist raised triumphantly. “I am victorious!”

“That’s not fair!” Hornet protested. She wrinkled her nose at the sudden stench. “You  _ farted! _ ”

“Indeed!” Ogrim replied, winking at her. “Resourcefulness! This is your first lesson with me today, young Princess. A knight must make use of every tool at his or her disposal!”

Hornet crossed her arms. “I still don’t think that was very heroic of you. Father says a knight should always be diggified.”

“Oh I assure you, I am exceedingly diggified!” he chortled, sweeping a bow so low that the top of his white helmet scuffed the dirt and came up brown. “Though I grant that I may not always be the most  _ dignified _ . Your father puts too much stock in appearances anyway.”

The Pale King certainly had a flair for the dramatic. Hornet’s scarlet cloak--a gift from her mother--was the only splash of color in the sparkling white of the palace’s sparring grounds. Gleaming columns lined the walls, each topped imposingly with a crown of four spikes, and intricate carvings wound their way around banisters, polished to a shine that still sometimes hurt Hornet’s eyes after her childhood in the darkness of Deepnest. Ogrim himself wore armor that matched the dazzling paleness of the room, emblazoned with the sigil of the Wrym that marked him as the White Defender, one of the five Great Knights of the Kingdom of Hallownest. Unfortunately the effect wasn’t nearly as impressive on him, mostly due to the numerous scuff marks and streaks of dirt that he had accumulated since its last polishing.

Hornet huffed indignantly again, but it was impossible to stay mad at Ogrim. The large beetle chortled and scooped her up onto his shoulders. “Come now, Princess, we have much to do today. There is fun to be had, and I dare say we won’t find it in these musty old rooms.”

Hornet wavered. “Don’t I have lessons now? Father would be made if I skipped them...”

Ogrim leaned in conspiratorially. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

At that moment, a commotion drew their attention to the side of the room. The double doors opened and a small procession entered, led by a fierce bug in elegant white armor--clearly a matched set with Ogrim’s--with a slender but deadly-looking nail at her side. Behind her followed a retinue of royal retainers who bowed obsequiously as they shuffled past Hornet. (She always wondered if they ever got stuck in that bent shape, they seemed to spend most of their time bowing to whoever walked by.) Several of them clustered around a teenage bug clad in a fine grey silk cloak that stood at least a head taller than the rest of the group. It seemed indifferent to the surrounding commotion, vacant eyes staring at the far wall as it allowed itself to be led by the hand towards the center of the room.

Hornet shuddered and looked away. She knew the Hollow Knight was her sibling, but that didn’t mean she felt comfortable around them. The Pale King went to great lengths to keep the two of them separated, such that she never caught more than a glimpse of them passing in the hall. The knight was surrounded at all times by gaggle of servants and minders who shepherded them around the palace, always with that blank stare on their face. It had been several weeks since she had last seen them, and it was obvious that the Hollow Knight had grown even in that short time. They now stood taller than any of the attendants and their mask had begun to elongate out of its rounded childlike shape, making it look even more unnerving and alien to Hornet.

“Ogrim!” The fierce-looking bug in white was marching towards them, looking annoyed.

“Dryya! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I distinctly remember reserving the sparring ground for the Hollow Knight’s training today. You know His Majesty requires its isolation.” 

Hornet stole a glance back towards the Hollow Knight. One of the retainers had handed them a wicked looking nail nearly as tall as the bug itself. Upon grasping the weapon, a change came over the knight. Their earlier listlessness shifted into intense focus as they fell into a defensive posture and began moving methodically through the poses of a standard nailmaster’s kata. They moved with robotic grace, each gesture performed with a brutal, practiced efficiency that wasted no energy.

Dryya’s voice drew Hornet back to the conversation at hand. “Doesn’t the Princess have lessons to attend?” She frowned disapprovingly at Hornet, who was still perched on the beetle’s shoulders and holding his horns for balance. 

Ogrim didn’t seem perturbed by the prickly greeting. “We were actually just on our way out. The King has tasked me with looking after young Hornet today, and I thought I would take the opportunity to expand her education in my own way. We were just discussing the importance of utilizing all of one’s available tools, were we not, Princess?”

“Mm-hm.” Hornet peeking out from behind Ogrim’s helmet. Dryya barely came up to Ogrim’s shoulder, but even from above Hornet found the elegant knight intimidating. “I learned you can fight with farts.”

Dryya stared at her for a moment then burst into laughter, her curt demeanor softened by her mirth. “Ogrim, whatever  _ will _ we do with you?” she said, wiping her eyes.

“The more pertinent question is whatever would you do without me!” he replied cheekily, sweeping another low bow that nearly unseated Hornet. “Say, would you care to contribute a lesson of your own? I’m sure the princess could learn much from a knight as accomplished as yourself.”

Dryya thought for a few moments, idly fingering the hilt of her nail. “Duty,” she said finally. “The most important lesson a knight must learn is that of Duty. When someone entrusts you with a task, it is a sign of honor and of faith. To be a knight is to dedicate oneself to becoming worthy of this trust by pursuing the completion of the task, no matter how difficult or distasteful” (at this her eyes flicked briefly towards the Hollow Knight) “even to one’s dying breath.”

This was met with a moment of silence. “These are wise words, my friend,” said Ogrim at last, “but somewhat heavy to give to one so young, don’t you think?”

“She will grow into them.” Dryya fixed Hornet with a steady gaze. “The life of royalty is one defined by duty to one’s kingdom. You know this already, do you not, Princess?”

Hornet nodded. She thought of the hours of lessons she attended each day, and of the words her mother had whispered during their farewells as she had sent Hornet off to stay at the White Palace. Yes, she understood the nature of the duties required of her, though she hoped that it wouldn’t involve any dying breaths. Behind Dryya, the Hollow Knight continued their methodical practice. What was the nature of their duty? she wondered. What were they being asked to sacrifice for the good of the kingdom?

“Very well.” Dryya sighed. “Ogrim, I have to ask a favor of you. The Mantis Council is coming for an audience with the King today. Normally we would have Hegemol escort them in from the city gates but with the current… unrest we can’t have him leaving his post. I am overseeing the Hollow Knight, Isma is busy with her experiments, and goodness knows where Ze’mer has gotten herself off to. If the Princess is already skipping out on her lessons, would you be willing to see them in?”

“Goodness, is that today? I nearly forgot!” Ogrim cried. “What do you say, Princess, fancy a trip to see old Hegemol?”

“HEGY!” Hornet squealed, bouncing with delight.

“I believe that is a yes,” confirmed Ogrim, as Dryya  _ hmphed _ at Hornet’s indecorous display. “Consider it done.”

“Thank you. I must return to the Hollow Knight’s training now. Oh, and try not to offend the Mantises again this time. You know they don’t appreciate your… particular brand of heroic expression.”

Ogrim looked indignant. “They live in the Fungal Wastes, the smell of a little heroism shouldn’t bother them,” he protested.

That earned him another glare. “For the love of honor and Wyrm,  _ control your flatulence, Ogrim _ .” 

“Honestly,” the beetle muttered to Hornet as Dryya turned back towards the practice ground, “the way she talks you’d think she’s never passed gas in her life.” He proceeded to mimic fart noises synced up to her footsteps as she walked away, causing Hornet to double up with silent giggles.

As they left the room, Hornet turned back to look inside the practice grounds. Dryya had returned to the Hollow Knight’s side, who had paused in their training to bow to the great knight. As they straightened up, she thought she saw their gaze flick briefly over Dryya’s shoulder to stare straight into Hornet’s eyes. Just for a moment, it looked… curious? More alive than usual? Definitely creepy. Hornet shuddered and turned to follow Ogrim out the door.

*

The city gates were quite a distance from the palace grounds, but a knight as  _ diggified _ as Ogrim knew certain shortcuts. He burrowed through the earth at a furious pace, diving in and out of the dirt as easily as a fluke through waterways amidst great shouts of  _ Doma! DomaDoma! _ Hornet kept up easily, leaping onto his back each time he surfaced and using her needle and thread to grapple the cavern ceiling and vault into the air each time he dived below ground. She giggled with delight to feel the air  _ whooshing _ across her face, and didn’t even stop to apologize to the startled citizens they showered in dirt with their passing. Being a princess did let one get away with certain improprieties.

Before long they approached the city gates, which loomed intimidatingly through the perpetual drizzle that showered Hallownest’s capitol. They slowed as they neared it, and Hornet noticed that there were rather more sentries than usual hovering by the entrance. A familiar hulking shape stood atop the center of the battlements.

“Hegy! HEGYYYYYY!” Hornet waved excited. She rappelled herself up to the ramparts just as the large figure turned around and smacked head first into his huge armored belly.

“My apologies, Princess! You caught me by surprise.” The voice that emanated from the massive metal shell was surprisingly soft and gentle. 

Hornet giggled and rolled to her feet. “Hegy its been so  _ long _ . Why don’t you come to the palace anymore? It’s so booooring without you!”

“Hornet, you wound me,” said Ogrim’s voice behind her as he jogged up the stairs to join them, feigning aggrievement. “Aren’t I entertaining enough for you?”

“My brother in arms, it is good to see you!” Hegemol embraced the now quite grubby beetle in a hug that looked like it might be able to crush boulders. “What brings you to my remote post?”

“The Princess and I are to be the Mantis’ honor guard, by special request,” Ogrim winked at Hornet. “That and Hornet insisted on bringing you lunch.”

“It isn’t spiders, is it?” said Hegemol in mock fear. “I’m not eating another of your creepy crawly Deepnest delicacies, Princess!”

Hornet stuck out her tongue at him and produced several wrapped sandwiches. “Egg sac stew is  _ delicious _ , thank you very much. It’s  _ supposed _ to tickle your throat. You’re just a big sissy!”

“I’ll gladly accept the title if it gets me out of eating another bowl of the stuff,” he teased back. “I was cleaning spiders out of my armor for days!”

The three of them settled down to lunch. Hegemol didn’t remove his helmet to eat, instead opening a flap by the chin to take bites of the sandwich. Hornet had never seen him without the armor, though she had asked Ogrim several times before what he looked like under it. The beetle had once told her that Hegemol was an enormous coiled worm that filled every inch of the interior space, and another time that he was a tiny fly who sat in the helmet and operated the limbs with strings like a puppet. Hornet wasn’t sure what to believe. She knew that most people found her big friend scary--he was nearly twice as tall as Ogrim, who was already fairly large among the residents of Hallownest--but all she saw when she looked at him was the bug with the biggest, gentlest heart she’d ever met. When she had first arrived at the White Palace, Hegemol had been the one who comforted her when she cried with homesickness for her mother and the darkness of Deepnest. He would hold her, telling her that everything would be okay and that even the fiercest warriors needed to cry sometimes. Of course, that was before his post at the city gates had become permanent.

“Hegy, why do you have to guard the gates all the time now?” she asked.

“His Majesty--your father--has decided to close the city. Nobody goes in or out. It is my job to enforce that.” He pointed across the long bridge that led to the Fungal Wastes. “That way lies the Pilgrim’s Path. Many bugs follow it, hoping to find refuge from the Infection in the city. I must turn them away and convince them that their homes are the safest place for them to be right now. My presence here at the gates is a show of strength, an assurance that the King knows their plight and has everything under control. He doesn’t, of course, but widespread panic would only make the situation worse.”

Hornet looked confused. “Why not let them into the city, then? Why send them back after they’ve traveled so far?”

“The King thinks that he can stop the Infection from spreading to the capitol with a quarantine. He has his greatest scholars and knights working on finding a cure.”

“His greatest knights,” Ogrim muttered. “What does he expect us to be able to do against an invisible foe?”

Hornet considered this. She had never met an invisible bug before, but she could navigate the corridors of Deepnest in pitch dark by sound and touch. Could fighting the Infection be something like that? Where their other senses you could use against it?

“Hegy,” she said, “Ogrim says I’m supposed to be learning about being a knight today. What do you think is the most important thing about being a knight?”

Hegemol sat thoughtfully as another bite of sandwich disappeared into his helmet. “Image,” he said at last. “A knight is only as strong as the visage that he or she shows to the world. Present a strong front, Princess, and none will dare stand in your way.”

“Like your armor?” she asked. “Is that why you never take it off? Everyone else thinks you’re so scary because of it.”

“In part. But there is more to it than that. What a bug sees--it informs what they believe, and what they dream about. With enough belief, dreams have incredible power even in our waking world. As a child, I dreamed of being a great knight. Now all who look upon me agree that that is what I am.” He gestured out over the city. “Your father once dreamed of creating a vast, shining kingdom. As long as the bugs of Hallownest share that same vision, it persists. Myself, Ogrim, the other knights--we are all a part of maintaining that image. So I wear my armor, stand my guard, and nurture that dream.”

Hornet considered this. She had always thought of the city as being made of buildings and bugs living in them. As long as they were there, so was Hallownest. Right? What did it matter what they dreamed of?

“You always were the philosopher among us,” Ogrim observed.

“And you were always the practical one,” the larger knight replied, laughing. “What was it you told me once? ‘If I can’t hit it with shit, it’s not my problem?’”

“A simple and reliable life philosophy!” the beetle protested. He peered over the ramparts towards the Fungal Wastes. “And speaking of things which could do with a faceful of dung, I do believe I see our guests approaching! Princess, let us wipe away any bread crumbs and make ourselves presentable.”

*

The procession of Mantises cut an impressive line as they entered the city. The procession was headed by the four members of the Council, three sisters and their younger brother in sharply tailored midnight-colored cloaks, each carrying a gleaming spear. Behind them were a dozen scribes and lesser officials, and nearly twice that number of armed warriors including both full-grown foot soldiers and winged youths. Hornet and Ogrim waited for them in front of the gates. The young princess fidgeted as she tried to stand as tall and regal as possible, both hands resting on her needle. She barely came up to the mantises’ waist.

“Friends and allies,” Ogrim called, bowing as the procession approached. “We welcome you into our city as esteemed guests. The King awaits you at the palace.”

The eldest mantis sister stepped forward and looked Ogrim up and down with a supercilious air. “Ah,” she said. “They sent us the grubby one.”

The awkward silence lasted for the entire walk back to the palace.

*

Ogrim had never had much of a head for politics. He loved his king and his country, and he knew how to be brave and loyal and follow orders. (He also loved Isma, but that was another thing altogether.) Issues of treaties and negotiations--that was best left for royalty to handle. Still, the King had wanted his “most loyal knight” (those words always filled him with pride) present for the audience with the Mantis Council, and so Ogrim had left Princess Hornet in the palace gardens with firm instructions to practice her calligraphy and now stood dutifully beside the King’s throne.

As far as he could tell, the meeting wasn’t going well. The Infection had begun to spread across the borders of Deepnest, exacerbating the violent tendencies of its wilder residents to unprecedented levels. Relations between Deepnest and the Mantis Tribe--tense in the best of times--were stretched to a breaking point. The Mantises wanted the Pale King to send reinforcements to help them hold back the tide of feral bugs. The King, in response, wanted the Mantis Tribe to officially join the Kingdom of Hallownest.

“I cannot spare the troops right now,” the Wyrm was saying. “We are already fully occupied keeping the peace in our own lands. But we have treaties with Deepnest, the most recent of which I personally negotiated with Herrah the Beast. Were you to join our nation you would be protected by them too, and she would be obligated to send her guards to apprehend any transgressors in your land. If you would just consider accepting status as a vassal state, there is much Hallownest can offer you. Look at all I have done for the bugs under my rule--what minds and riches I have brought them!”

“You insult us, Wyrm,” the second eldest mantis sister spat. “Or need I remind you that our ancestors had minds of their own long before you came to these caverns? We are not weak like the Mosskin worshipping their fading god, nor simple like the Mushroom Clan that bowed so easily to your will. Our traditions predate your so-called Eternal Kingdom and will persist long after its fall.”

And so the arguments continued. It didn’t help that the mantises seemed to lack unity within their own ranks. Several times they called for a recess and retreated to the corner to bicker amongst themselves. The third time this happened, the dispute ended with the youngest mantis--the brother, Ogrim thought--storming out of the throne room in a rage. The remaining sisters returned to the table to apologize for his behavior and request an adjournment for the day.

“My King,” Ogrim said tentatively once the room had cleared, “may I be dismissed? I ought to check on your daughter.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes.” The king stared distractedly into the distance. “Give Hornet my love.”

“You can do it yourself this evening, Your Majesty,” Ogrim reminded him. “You promised her you would have dinner together.”

The king sighed. “Did I? I’m afraid I will have to cancel it, there is so much to do...”

“Again, my lord? She’ll be so disappointed.”

“I’m simply too busy… Please apologize to her for me.” The king buried his face in his hands. “Oh Ogrim, everything is happening too fast. The Infection has spread further than I feared and the Hollow Knight isn’t nearly ready to be deployed yet. What am I going to do?”

The King spoke like this sometimes, describing his child as a tool or a weapon to be wielded. He treated his two children so differently--Hornet, given the best tutors in the land and groomed for rulership while the other child was kept isolated and trained only in martial skills. Why? It discomfited Ogrim deeply… but he was the King’s most loyal knight. He had to trust that the Wyrm had his reasons. 

“I do not know, my lord… it isn’t my place.” He reached out a hand, hesitated, then patted the King tentatively on the shoulder. The Wyrm flinched away from his touch. “I’m sorry. I know you’ll figure something out.”

The King didn’t respond. After a few minutes, Ogrim let himself out. He looked back from the doorway, disturbed by how small and fragile the figure of the king looked slumped on his throne. What had happened to the great Wyrm he had once known, the one that had sworn him into knighthood and named him the White Defender, who had dazzled the eyes of bugs with his very presence? But those days of glory were gone. The Wyrm had poured too much of his power into building his kingdom, stretching himself thin so that all the citizens of Hallownest might carry a piece of him within themselves. How much longer could he sustain them all?

Ogrim let his feet carry him towards the gardens while he pondered this, and nearly collided with a beautiful young knight. “Isma?” he said, heart fluttering.

“I’m sorry, Ogrim! Clumsy me. I was just on my way to deliver the latest experimental reports to the King. I saw the Mantises on their way out, so I thought he might be free.”

“Ah… now might not be the best time,” Ogrim said, thinking of the despondent figure he had left in the throne room. “Not unless you’re bringing good news.”

Isma sighed. “I’m afraid not. They are certainly  _ interesting _ results--we are seeing unprecedented growth patterns in response to the latest set of environmental stimuli--but I doubt any of it is going to help against the Infection. If the King is having another one of his days… no, I suppose it can wait.”

“Accompany me to the gardens,” he suggested. “I was just about to retrieve young Hornet, who I suspect is terribly bored and getting up to some trouble as we speak.” He offered an arm, which she accepted and fell into step beside him. Her touch sent tingles across his skin.

Isma was the smartest bug Ogrim knew. Barely coming up to his chest, she was the smallest of the five Great Knights and wore a plated white dress that split into a petaled skirt. It made her look more plant than bug--an effect which was heightened of late, since in the past year leafy vines had begun to sprout through the joints of her armor. Though skilled in combat with a bow--one had to be in order to gain a knighthood from the King--her true value to the throne lay in her scientific expertise. Isma spent most of her days in her grove beneath the city, studying the flora of Hallownest and carrying out experiments to further the technological advancement of the kingdom. It had been her insights that had allowed them to tame the thorn-covered wastes that now made up the Queen’s Gardens and purify the acidic reservoirs of the Royal Waterways. Now the King had requested that she turn her attention to seeking a cure for the Infection, an endeavor which kept her working late into the night. Ogrim still did not understand exactly what she did during those long nights in the lab, despite her attempting to explain it to him several times over, but he fully believed that if the antidote to their problems lay hidden somewhere in the flora of Hallownest, she would be able to find it.

“Unprecedented growth indeed,” Ogrim said, reaching over to pluck a budding tendril from behind her ear and handing it to her. “My dear, you are blooming again.”

She accepted it with a frown. “I thought I had the sprouting under control. I could have sworn it was going away. If only I knew the source of it…” 

Ogrim felt a twinge of alarm. “Aren’t you supposed to leave your experiments in the laboratory, not carry them around on you?” he joked, trying to cover his worry. “You are working too hard, my darling. You have bags under your eyes--all six of them!”

Isma gave a small laugh, which nevertheless made his heart swell with joy. Beautiful, wonderful, clever Isma. Though he had sworn fealty to the Pale King, Ogrim knew in his heart of hearts that he would always defend her above all else. If only he knew how to protect her from this…

“You’re too good to me, Ogrim,” she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked.

_ Please,  _ he thought,  _ let this last forever. _

The moment was shattered by an ear-splitting scream from the garden.

*

Hornet was bored. She had practiced her cursive for a bit, but penmanship was absolutely the dullest thing a princess had to learn. Why couldn’t she work on her needle fighting instead? That was actually useful. You could  _ stab _ people with needles.

She sighed and watched idly as a few weaverlings rolled the quill pen back and forth across the paper, leaving smears of ink on her half-finished homework. It was nice to have some friends from Deepnest with her at the palace, but even they couldn’t make calligraphy interesting.

Movement on the other side of the garden caught her eye. It was difficult to see through the brush, but three figures made their way down one of the paths. It looked like two royal retainers (she would recognize those white robes anywhere) and--was that the Hollow Knight? How odd to see them twice in one day, and even stranger that they were accompanied by so few minders. Hornet shushed the weaverlings and crept closer.

The attendants seemed to be arguing about something. They were clearly distressed and seemed to be in a hurry to answer a call elsewhere. The Hollow Knight stood passively, staring straight ahead and seemingly indifferent to their bickering. 

After a minute, one of the retainers seemed to win the argument. It led the Hollow Knight to a bench and pushed them slightly to get them to sit down. Hornet could just make out the servant pleading, “...and  _ please _ don’t move, my lord, we will be right back” before the two of them hurried out through a side door.

Hornet stood frozen in the bush, her mind racing. Never, in her entire time at the Palace, had she ever seen the Hollow Knight unattended. Was this her chance to finally meet her strange, unnerving sibling? Did she even want to?

“Ahhh, Le’mer seems heavy of heart today,” a quiet voice whispered behind her. Hornet jumped in surprise and turned to see a tall grey bug emerging from the foliage. She wore a long white robe that tangled with the diaphanous wings that wrapped her body and trailed on the ground behind her. A great nail was strapped to her back. Hornet recognized her as Ze’mer, the most mysterious of her father’s knights.

“What saddens, che wonders?” the tall bug asked Hornet. “Does the small thing not wish to know its sibling?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Hornet. “I’m afraid.”

Ze’mer studied Hornet with a steady gaze. Of all the great knights, she was the one Hornet knew least well. She had heard the rumors of the knight’s unusual origins in a distant land across the wastes, and even now her ways and language were strange to the citizens of Hallownest. Hornet’s eyes drifted to the great nail, the largest she had ever seen. How beautiful, and how deadly, it must be in combat, wielded by such a graceful bug. Hornet longed to see it.

“Che understands fear,” Ze’mer agreed. “Aiiii mi what fear che did feel upon coming to this land! Yet che did overcome it, and what beauty has been born since.”

“How? How did you stop being afraid?”

“Compassion,” she said simply. “Of all the knight’s weapons, compassion is che’s greatest.” The bushes behind her rustled and a young female mantis emerged--Hornet recognized her from the procession earlier as the daughter of one of the Mantis lords. She placed a slender bladed arm on Ze’mer’s shoulder, who reached up and stroked it fondly. “Le’mer must always extend empathy to the world, even to those whomst others would name Enemy. Nahlo, Nahlo. That is when it is most important.”

Hornet turned back to the Hollow Knight, who was still sitting on the bench and staring at the same patch of ivy-covered wall as when the retainers had left them. She tried to see them differently--not as the interloper that her father had brought home one day with no explanation, who never spoke and stared blankly at nothing. Not as the strange creature that grew faster than any other bug Hornet had met, who practiced for deadly combat every day yet had to be led by the hand from room to room. But as her sibling. Just another kid, who probably felt just as out of place and lost and lonely in this world of grown ups as she did.

“I want to talk to them,” she said at last.

“Me’hon, such bravery from one so young.” The tall knight glanced towards the young mantis by her side, who leaned into her with eyes closed contentedly. “Whilst Le’mer keep che’s little secret?”

“Y-yes, of course,” stammered Hornet, who had been unaware that there was a secret that needed to be kept. “Uh, I’m going to go now.”

She moved cautiously towards the bench where the Hollow Knight sat. She stopped at the edge of the clearing, uncertain how to proceed. Would they attack if she got too close? They didn’t seem violent, but she couldn’t forget how effortlessly they had wielded their nail that morning. “Um… excuse me?” she called out tentatively. The figure continued to stare at the wall. “Hollow Knight?”

At the sound of their title (did they have a name?) their eyes flicked briefly towards Hornet, then they turned away quickly as if pretending they hadn’t looked. Encouraged, she crept closer.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Hornet.”

She was close enough now that she could see the tension in their body. They were practically shaking with--what? Aggression? Fear?

“I saw you practicing with the nail earlier,” she tried, easing onto the bench next to her sibling, careful to leave a gap between them. “You’re very good. I bet Dryya will start teaching you advanced nail arts soon, and she said I won’t be ready to start those for  _ months _ .”

The knight seemed to perk up at mention of this topic. They glanced at Hornet again out of the corner of their eye.

“You like fighting, do you?” A slight nod. “What else do they make you learn? Dad forces me to take calligraphy and dance lessons and it is so  _ booooring _ , but I don’t suppose they make you do that.” This statement was met with visible confusion. Hornet wasn’t sure if it was caused by the “dance lessons” part or the “Dad” part. Either way she ought to clarify.

“I’m your sister, by the way. Er, half-sister. I think. At least I don’t  _ think _ we have the same mom, and I think I’d know if you were from Deepnest. Your mom is the Queen, right?”

Her sibling didn’t answer, instead cocking their head quizzically.

“Do you not know?” asked Hornet, shocked.

A shrug.

“Gosh, I’m sorry. But I don’t see my mom much anymore either, so I guess we have that in common.”

A pause.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

Another shrug.

They sat in silence for a bit--the nice kind, not the awkward kind, Hornet thought. Her feet didn’t quite reach the ground and she kicked them back and forth idly. Something tickled her hand and she looked down to find that her weaverling friends had scuttled over. A few of them were on the ground inching closer to the Hollow Knight.

“Oh!” she said, eager to make introductions. “Hollow--can I call you that? do you have another name?--these are my friends from Deepn-”

At that moment Hollow leapt from the bench, a strange echoing shriek ripping itself from their body. Hornet screamed and scrambled backwards, falling to the ground with a hard  _ smack! _ The weaverlings that had been crowded around the knight fled into the undergrowth as they flailed and stomped. Not all of them made it--a dark smear on the ground was all that was left of one spider, bolder than the others, that had attempted to crawl up the knight’s leg a moment before.

Royal retainers burst through the doorway, grabbing Hollow and attempting to wrestle them to the ground as they continued to struggle wordlessly, body heaving with silent panicked breaths. Hornet crawled backwards, trying to put as much distance between herself and the strange beast that was her sibling until a pair of strong arms scooped her up.

“Princess! What happened? Are you hurt?” came Ogrim’s worried voice.

“I’m s-s-so s-sorry!” Hornet sobbed, burying her face in his chest. “I just wanted to be friends, and it was going so  _ well _ \--and then, and then they smashed the little weaverling and, and--” she dissolved into tears.

“There, there, little one.” Isma’s voice was quiet and calm. “Everything will be alright. Let’s get you inside.”

They ushered her away, but not before Hornet caught a glimpse of Hollow, now held down by no less than five attendants and still thrashing soundlessly.

“Th-they’re hurting them,” Hornet whimpered. “It’s not their fault! They’re just scared!”

Ogrim and Isma exchanged troubled looks. “Hornet,” said Isma gently, “what were you doing with the Hollow Knight?”

Hornet wiped her nose. “I just wanted to meet them. They were all alone in the garden and I’m never allowed to see them when there are other bugs around. They looked so lonely and I was scared but I thought that someone who was brave like a knight would go offer to be their friend.” Tears started leaking down her face again. “Did I do something wrong? I was trying to be smart and resourceful and kind just like you all taught me! Why can’t we be friends?”

She dissolved into tears again. They eventually reached her room, where Ogrim set the sobbing child down on the bed between them. He and Isma had a quick, wordless debate in that way adults did. 

_ Her heart is in the right place _ , Isma’s sigh communicated.

_ But the King! _ Ogrim’s worried expression replied.  _ He was adamant that the Hollow Knight must be kept isolated. _

_ She’s just a child. And so are they. _ Isma raised an eyebrow.  _ And the Wyrm doesn’t always know what truly  _ needs _ to be done. _

Ogrim frowned. This was the King they were talking about. The Great Wyrm, founder and savior of Hallownest. And yet… an image from earlier swam into his mind of the huddled figure on the throne, bent from the weight of centuries of responsibility, cringing away from the unforeseen consequences of his ambitions.

On the day he was knighted, Ogrim had sworn to always defend Hallownest. He thought at the time that this meant honorable combat against the foes of his king. But the older he grew, the more complicated that became. The Infection, the civil unrest, the King’s melancholy, and Isma’s strange vegetal affliction… how could one defend things so large and nebulous? He looked down at the young spider dribbling snot onto his once-shining breastplate. She looked so small and fragile in her little red cloak… but she was the future of the Hallownest now. That meant he would always do what was best for her. And for the Hollow Knight.

He met Isma’s eye again and nodded.

Isma knelt down onto the ground, taking Hornet’s hands in her own. “Princess, you didn’t do anything wrong,” she assured her. “It is true that the King has his reasons for keeping you two apart and for… treating the Hollow Knight the way he does. But it is never wrong to extend compassion to those around you. Ogrim and I are very proud of you for that.”

“But why didn’t it work?” the princess asked tearfully.

“Patience,” said Isma. “It is the toughest lesson I ever learned. The smallest bug can become a great knight, if she has the patience to practice and learn. The tiniest sapling can become a mighty oak, but it takes time to grow. You planted a seed today, Hornet, but if you wish it to blossom into a friendship you must put in the time and effort to nurture it. And if you manage that, I think it will make you the wisest of all us knights.”

“That sounds really, really hard.” 

Isma smiled and held out a handkerchief. “The worthwhile things usually are. Here, blow your nose.”

“Thanks,” Hornet mumbled, taking it. “If it’s okay, I think I want to be alone for a bit.”

“Of course, Princess,” Ogrim said, giving her a quick hug. “We can be here in a moment if you need anything.”

The two left. Hornet wandered over the window, which overlooked the gardens. They were empty now, but she could see the bench where she had sat with her sibling not too long ago. For those few brief minutes, she had been the happiest she could remember since leaving Deepnest… until it all went wrong. 

Could she really befriend the Hollow Knight? She knew her father would forbid it, and that the knight’s attendants would be even more watchful of their charge in the future. And there was the issue of whether her sibling could even understand the concept of friendship after so much time alone. Hornet thought of the knight’s terrified reaction to the simple action of being touched. Starting from there, it seemed nearly impossible…

_ No, _ Hornet chided herself.  _ That’s no way for a knight to think _ . She thought back to everything she had learned today. Yes, it would be difficult to find time alone with Hollow, but she could be Resourceful. Perhaps clever diversions to draw their attendants away, or late night sneaking around the castle. It might be difficult, but once she accepted the task as a Duty she knew she wouldn’t give up. And though Hollow might not know what it meant to be a friend, she could show them an Image of friendship so strong and believable that it became real. She could treat them with the Compassion they had always been denied, and most importantly of all she would have the Patience to allow her sibling to meet her advances on their own terms, at their own pace.

Hornet hugged herself and smiled. She thought of Hollow somewhere in the castle, probably alone in their chambers just like her.  _ Hang in there, _ she thought to her sibling.  _ Your Knight is coming to rescue you. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This story has been bopping around in my head for a while so it's nice to get it out there. It's the longest fic I've written by far and I'm pretty proud of how it turned out! I am, hm, a bit more than mildly obsessed with the lore of the Five Knights of Hallownest, which is frustrating because the game gives us so many delicious little hints but so few concrete things to go on! But I love them all and desperately hope they get more lore in the future!
> 
> Also baby Hornet is a national treasure, please give her hugs. Same with Hollow (but make sure they're okay with being touched first!)
> 
> I hope you have a nice day, and consider dropping a comment to let me know what you thought. Geo, kalala! :D


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